by C. M. Carney
“Why would the Princes agree to such a deal?” Jurredix asked, his tone overflowing with doubt.
“Because it gets them away from the Source and the Lords of Order,” Tal said. “On Earth, they can spread unopposed.”
“Bugger,” Lex said. The truth behind Simon’s words terrified him.
“I say let them,” Seraphine said. “Be rid of the assholes once and for all.”
“And leave billions of people to be slaughtered?” Lex roared. “Innocent people with no understanding of what they’d face, and no ability to fight back.”
“Better the billions I don’t know than the billions I do,” Seraphine countered.
“You cold-blooded bitch,” Lex said and moved towards Seraphine, his anger so potent that he momentarily forgot, or perhaps did not care, that she was in Furrick’s stolen body. Vonn held him back, leaving Lex nothing but his words. “We will not sacrifice billions, either on Earth or in the Realms.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah, I do,” Lex said fiercely. “We’re gonna find the fucking Realm Gate and we will blow it out of the sky.”
“Easier said than done,” Tal said.
"But it can be done. You've done it once before. You can do it again."
Tal turned thoughtful as he considered. “It will be dangerous and most of us will probably die, but yes, I believe it can be done.”
“Likelihood of a horrible death. Slim chance of success. Sounds like a normal day for us.” Lex grinned more to push back the fear than from any confidence.
Seraphine glared at him but finally nodded. “Fine, we’ll try it your way.”
“Good,” Lex said, his anger draining away. “There’s only one teensy weensy problem.”
“We got lost and we have no idea where Harlan’s Watch is,” Vonn offered.
“Yup, that’s the one.”
A range of emotions filled the group. Lex threw his hands above his head in desperate, guilt-ridden fury. Silence hung heavy as if thinking hard would force a solution to present itself. Lex looked from one vacant set of eyes to another, eventually landing on Vonn, who shrugged.
“Well fuck,” Lex said and then a slight tug on the sleeve of his robe drew his attention. He looked down to find Steve the bläärt standing next to him. The tiny blue man grinned up at him, his few teeth pointing every which way.
“Steve knows where go.”
34
It turned out that Steve did knows where go. Hidden beneath a slew of less desirable traits, all bläärts possessed excellent flying skills and an infallible ability to find any place where they’d left their mark. Steve offered to show Lex the mechanics behind the Mark ability, but when the bläärt reached a hand below his kilt, Lex decided that some things were better left a mystery, especially when those mysteries were disgusting.
Luckily for them, Steve had marked Harlan’s Watch many, many times, and he sensed its direction even across the erratic vastness of the Realm of Chaos. Steve was more than willing to tell them how to get to Harlan’s Watch, but he had one condition.
“You take Steve with.”
“Take Steve with where?” Lex asked, dread filling him as his suspicions peaked.
“To places other than this place. Steve hate this place. This place is the sucks.”
Lex couldn’t fault the guy. If any place in history had earned the descriptor the sucks, it was the Realm of Chaos. Even if the little blue fella’s entire family, fraternity, autonomous collective, or whatever the gaggle of bläärts called themselves, weren't dead, this place was worthy of the hate.
“Yeah, this place blows,” Lex agreed.
Steve grinned like a kid on school picture day and bounced up and down all hope and excitement. Lex cast a glance at Vonn, hoping the rogue would ease his unease, but Vonn just smiled, smacked him on the back and muttered something about strays.
“Fine, we’ll take you with.”
“Say you take Steve with and then swears on tall funny man’s life to keep the takes when leaves.”
Steve pointed towards Errat’s motionless form inside the Order Engine. Lex’s heart sank on seeing his prone friend. Even if they survived the suicide mission to destroy the Realm Gate and then pulled a miracle from the Source’s backside and got back home, Errat was still infected, was still dying.
“I swears to take Steve when leaves,” Lex said, crossing his heart.
The bläärt chortled in excitement and zipped around Lex like a newly adopted pound puppy. His mouth moved a mile a minute, but Lex only understood every third word. The incomplete picture they painted suggested Steve thought Lex had agreed to bunk with him and make more bläärts.
“Well, this relationship sure has moved fast,” Vonn said.
“Uh, we’re just friends,” Lex said, his voice unsure. He stepped back putting several paces between Steve and himself.
“If you two have concluded your mating dance, we have incoming,” Jurredix said in his irritating deadpan. Lex’s head snapped to the archon, sure that the mechanical man was mocking him, when his eyes fell on the viewscreen, and the dozen ships bearing down on them.
“I agree with Jurr here,” Lex said in a tone that suggested he wished anything else were true. “Steve, and I cannot believe I am saying this, our lives are in your hands.”
Steve grinned and rushed to the helm. His head was well short of the console and he hopped several times trying to reach the controls. Beyond Steve, the red circles of approaching enemies flared darker.
Lex’s unease surged to worry when several of the closest enemies, including a three-headed drake, fired weapons at them. Both Tal and Jurredix were calm, as if they had all the time in the world.
Steve stopped his hopping, pulled a pair of stilts from underneath his kilt, strapped them on and clapped in glee as the controls came into view. He rushed from one side of the panel to the other, tapping like a madman and paying no heed to the Grandmaster or the archon.
The lights on the view screen increased their frantic blinking and Lex raised a worried hand.
“I would suggest taking your seats,” Jurredix said without turning from the console. “I suspect that Steve’s piloting style is more erratic than my own.” He said the name Steve as if it were a foreign word whose meaning he did not understand, but suspected was rude.
The others sat, but the ship lurched forward and then rolled before Lex joined them. He tumbled across the deck and came to rest against Vonn’s chair. The rogue reached down and snagged a handful of Lex’s robes before the NPC spun away.
The ship righted itself and Lex stumbled to his chair and sat. A warm cushion of air wrapped about him and held him fast. Before he could nod his thanks to Vonn, the ship lurched again, this time forward and up.
Tal and Jurredix tapped at the controls in front of them and a pair of dull zings rumbled through the deck. On-screen, two of the pursuing ships disappeared in flares of silver-white light. While Steve piloted the craft, the other two were manning the weapons.
The ship shuddered as weapon’s impacts and zapping jolts of chaotic energy flowed through the ship. The arcs flashed near Lex, leaving a slight tingling in their wake, before surging to Odymm Tal as if the man were a lightning rod.
One, two, three bolts of raw chaos pummeled the man, and Lex realized the Grandmaster was drawing the energy to himself on purpose. He’s protecting us. Tal hunched over, his face a rictus of pain. For a second, Lex thought he saw a roiling mass of chaos swirling at the man’s core. Jurredix tried to move towards Tal, but the stasis fields that allowed them to keep their feet also prevented him from reaching his friend. A moment later, the boiling chaos at Tal’s core faded, and he returned his attention to the battle.
Over the next several minutes, Lex’s stomach seemed to move freely about his insides. Vomit roiled up his throat, but Lex held it down, opening and closing his mouth in distaste. His head throbbed from so many changes in direction, that he was unsure what was up and what was down.
> Then, like the sudden jerky end of a roller coaster, calm overtook the ship once more.
“We have lost them.” The Grandmaster looked down on Steve and gave the bläärt an appreciative nod. “For now.” Tal slumped to the floor, but the archon moved in a flash, catching him before he hit the deck.
Lex rushed to Tal’s side to find the man sweating and looking every bit his hundred plus years. Pulses of red-orange light pulsed through his body and the mass in his stomach flared to brightness. Fear rushed into Lex as recognition tickled his memories.
“Is that a Chaos Spore?”
“It is something much worse,” Jurredix said. “We need to get him into the Order Engine now.”
“But…” Lex began, unable to finish his words. Without the time dampening powers of the Order Engine, Errat would die. But they needed Tal, and he needed the engine. Conflict raged inside Lex. He couldn’t let his friend die, but without Tal, their chances of stopping the Princes were next to nil. It was an impossible choice, and he did not want to make it.
How does Gryph do it?
The archon bent down, lifted Tal and walked towards the spinning vortex of the Order Engine. Lex opened his mouth. He wanted to yell no, scream for Jurredix to stop, but something deep inside held his tongue.
But the Grandmaster was not so timid.
“Put me down Jurredix.” Tal’s voice was calm, even and strong as stone.
“Grandmaster, the calculations are clear. Without you, our chances of victory are reduced by 76%. I do not wish harm to the warborn, or to appear cold, but the choice is obvious. You are more important than the warborn.”
“I am not,” Tal insisted. “I have earned this fate. Errat has not. And there is work to do. With your help, I will last long enough to complete it.” Tal stared up at his friend, his eyes fearless. “Please, put me down.”
The archon paused, cocking his head to the side in a manner that expressed concern, perhaps even affection. “You are an illogical ass, Odymm Tal,” Jurredix said, but eased the Grandmaster to the ground.
“I am as the Source made me.” Tal chuckled and then coughed violently.
Jurredix ripped open Tal’s shirt and held a hand over his abdomen. A low hum built inside him as the silver-blue of concentrated Order Magic pulsed between his fingers. They surged down into the Grandmaster’s chest.
Tal arched his back, his mouth open in silent agony. The filaments of light burrowed through his flesh towards the crimson mass. The closer Jurredix’s magic got to the ‘something worse’ the more it lashed out, searing Tal’s insides.
He will die. A deep fear slathered in guilt filled Lex as the realization hit him.
Lex looked past the spinning arms of the Order Engine where Errat lay, his eyes closed. There was no rise and fall to the warborn’s chest and for a horrific moment, he feared his friend was dead. Then he remembered that warborn did not need to breathe, and the slower passage of time inside the engine would make it near impossible to detect, anyway.
The realization did not comfort Lex. He might have to force the situation, might have to make the decision for them all. They needed Tal and to save others, he might have to let Errat die. Lex sent a silent plea to the universe for aid and felt like a coward.
Then he doubled down on that cowardice by wishing Gryph were here to take that burden.
A throat wrenching scream pulled Lex’s attention back to Tal. Jurredix was still at his side, the archon’s hand aglow with silver-blue energy. Tendrils swirled around the infection in Tal’s abdomen but did not touch the mass as if a magnetic field were pushing the two diametrically opposed forces apart. Pulses of chaos surged outwards from the spinning maelstrom of chaos, but Jurredix’s ministrations turned them all back.
With surprising suddenness, the strands of order magic snapped into a shell, encompassing the infection and the pain searing Tal’s nerves stopped. The man’s face glistened with sweat, but he reached an unsteady hand up to the archon’s faceplate. “Thank you old friend. Please help me up.”
The archon helped Tal to his feet and Lex extended an arm to the exhausted Grandmaster. The action was a limited salve to Lex’s frayed emotions, his small way of making amends.
But, what will I do when it happens again?
Jurredix wanted Tal to retire to his chambers and rest, but the Grandmaster refused, citing the need for his presence in the likely event of another attack.
“This is why we are here Jurredix. This is my chance for redemption.”
For a moment Lex thought the archon would force the issue, but then Jurredix lowered his head in a simple nod. Tal allowed the archon to lead him to his private office right off the bridge. There he would rest. He made the archon promise to wake him if they needed him. Soon, a subtle motion of Tal’s chest told them he was asleep. Lex looked up at the archon.
“Is he going to be okay?”
The archon’s placid features adjusted slightly, giving Lex the distinct impression that Jurredix was frightened. The idea sent a chill through Lex. An emotional reaction from an archon, even a subtle one, was a troubling concept.
“He is stable for the time being, but his insistence on placing the lives of others ahead of his own is a trait that will lead to his undoing.”
It was then that Lex understood the archon, at least as much as it was possible to understand a sentient spark of pure order encased in metallic-crystalline armor. “He did the same for you.”
“Yes.” After a pause, the archon began to tell his tale. “Within moments of our arrival, we knew that returning home would be close to impossible. As we floated amongst the dismembered body parts of the Princes, waiting for the Order Lance to reform about us, I watched Odymm Tal’s mind begin to unravel and realized it was not the ravages of chaos but guilt that was responsible for his mental state.”
“He felt responsible for Xygarrion's destruction, responsible for losing his family.”
“Indeed. It was foolish. Rowyn Vex destroyed the city. I told Tal as much, frequently, but he refused to listen.”
“As you said, we mortals can be pains in the asses,” Lex said.
“It is a wonder your species has survived, much less thrived. You are illogical and often unhinged”
“Some more than others,” Vonn agreed. Lex gave Vonn an irritated glare, but Vonn ignored him.
Jurredix did also and continued his tale. “I realized Tal needed a purpose if he was to survive with his mind intact, so I guided his attention to Baelmaera. She was the only one of the Princes not present when Vex opened the Realm Gate. Had the other princes worked against her, or was her absence part of an elaborate ploy?”
“They do not call her the Lady of Plots and Shadows for nothing,” Vonn said.
“My reasoning as well. We knew that it would take the Princes decades to reform, which bought us the time needed to track Baelmaera down.” Jurredix explained that the Princes were not alive in the sense that mortals understood and therefore were immune to true death. "Even as their bodies rotted, their spirits existed somewhere in the Realm's vastness, beginning the process that would end with their return.”
“No wonder you archons are so grumpy,” Simon muttered. “You’re fighting a war you can never win.”
“We are not grumpy, dead man. Grumpy is an emotional state. We do not experience emotions.” The archon’s tone was adamant but sounded grumpy to Lex’s ears.
“OK, I stand corrected,” Simon said. “You’re not grumpy, you’re just an asshole.” Simon crossed his arms, all smug and teenage angst.
Lex feared the archon would react. After all, Simon was dead, relieving the archon from the proscriptions against harming living mortals. But Jurredix ignored Simon and continued his tale.
“It took us decades to track Baelmaera down, but in a hollowed-out planetoid, floating in a remote crevice of this realm, we found her. Tal commanded me to store his impressions of our encounter in the event he did not survive. So, you will understand, I will share these impressions wi
th you now.”
As Tal had before him, Jurredix held his hand palm upwards and summoned a glow of blue-white mana. The mana flashed outwards and Lex and the gang lived a moment of another man’s life.
35
Tal levitated down the long vertical shaft and the darkness enveloped him. His heart pounded in his chest, a primal, very human reaction to the grasping shadows. Though he could not see Jurredix below him, he sensed the archon’s steady, calm presence and hear his thoughts.
Shield your emotions, Grandmaster, the archon sent through their Telepathic Link. If Baelmaera is here, she will use them against you.
A scowl twisted Tal’s lips, but his old friend was right. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, using the training he’d learned as a novice to ease his anger, tame his fear and bury his guilt. Soon he felt nothing but purpose and the slight rush of air against his skin as they descended. After a time, he sensed Jurredix slow, and they reached the bottom.
Jurredix’s feet landed, crunching louder than Tal would have expected. The archon summoned silver-white light to his hands and moved forward, guarding against hidden attacks from the murk. Tal landed behind him and reached down, his curiosity turned to dread as he hefted a handful of broken white shards.
“Bone,” Tal said, his voice edged with dread.
“Perhaps they ran out of sand,” Jurredix responded.
The archon’s deadpan tone would have offended most, but the jest was an attempt at humor, even if it was bound to the gallows. Tal let a small chuckle push past his lips and stood, letting the bone shards fall in a cascade through his fingers. “It is a warning.”
Jurredix sent several globes of light flying into the gloom, revealing an arrowhead-shaped chamber. They stood at the wide end. At the far end, a pair of large doors stood sentinel. Though small fragments of bone littered the floor, the walls were even worse. Scrawled in blood-red runes were threats, proscriptions, and warnings. Tal refused to read them, for he already knew who’d written them, and he cared not for their threats.
